The Night is Darkest
by JCLeo
Summary: Taking place post-S3, "The Night is Darkest" follows a confused and emotionally defeated Scott who, in light of a recent tragedy, journeys to Europe in search of answers and, ultimately, what it means to be a True Alpha.


"_Remember this moment – when you denied me – as you stand weeping over their mangled bodies."_

The night was cool and crisp, as many in the town of Beacon Hills are. A dense cloud of fog had begun to engulf the city just as the full moon had fully risen to its peak in the blackened sky. It hung like a suspended white orb, shining down. But even the moonlight could not penetrate the thickness of the fog. And right now, that was a good thing.

Through the chill darkness, two figures emerged - Peter and Derek. They ran side by side, step by step in unison, barreling down the street with great swiftness. From a distance, they were virtually undetectable, concealed by the shroud of fog that surrounded them. They continued on, carving a path through the cloud, until they rounded a corner and slid to a sudden stop, for their gaze was drawn by something in the distance.

"Anything?" Derek whispered.

"No. Not yet, but Scott is on his way."

Elsewhere, high atop a towering building stood two more figures, Scott and Isaac, as they gazed out across the industrial area of Beacon Hills.

"Anything?" Isaac asked anxiously. He was beginning to grow impatient; they had been up here awhile with no result.

The alpha raised his nose to the air and inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes, eliminating everything external and focusing solely on his sense of smell. He searched and searched, attempting to trace –

Scott's red eyes snapped open. "Got it," he said. Scott vaulted himself over the edge of the building, and Isaac followed. Together they plummeted down towards the ground. Scott turned towards the brick wall of the building, reaching out with his hands. He growled, feeling his claws dig deep into the brick. Isaac, again, did the same. Their speed slowed, and before they could touch the ground, they leapt backwards, flipping through the air and landing gracefully on their feet. Without a moment's respite, the two wolves dropped to all fours and sped out into the night in hot pursuit.

Peter and Derek stood stoically, slightly squinting their eyes in an attempt to pierce the fog. Suddenly they heard a loud, bellowing roar echo through the abandoned factories of the industrial district, and they instantly recognized the call.

"They got him," Peter said.

Some ways away, a shadowed figure darted in between the rusted metal structures, doing his absolute best to evade the chasing lights behind him. He was followed closely by a piercing siren call and the flashing red and blue lights of a police cruiser.

"I can see him," the officer spoke into the radio. "I'm on it." Out of the corner of his eye, the officer noticed the figure of a man running away from him at incredible speeds. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, and he tossed the radio to the side, shifting gears and slamming hard on the gas pedal. The engine roared with vigor in response, leaving the officer not far behind his target.

The man abruptly changed course, disappearing down a dark alleyway between two factory buildings. "Dammit," the officer said, twisting the wheel over and over in attempt to maintain his chase.

The screaming squad car screeched around a corner and barreled down the narrow alleyway. It zoomed past the various things cluttering the alley; whoever was driving clearly had only one purpose: to catch the figure running at the fringe of its headlights.

The shadowed figure fell onto all fours and pressed its claws hard into the cold pavement. In one, powerful leap, it soared up into the air and landed atop a brick wall barring further passage into the alley. It looked back at the squad car one final time, its eyes shining a thick, blood red in the lights. The creature bore its fanged teeth, and the driver of the car slammed hard on the breaks, abruptly bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt.

Before the officer could even undo his seatbelt, another creature leapt from the shadows, tackling the first and pushing it from the wall, slamming the wolf to the ground in front of the squad car.

Scott sat perched upon the wall, staring down at the squirming man below him. A low growl emitted from the true alpha, and yet another emerged from hiding: a taller, more defined frame. Isaac stood alongside his crouching pack leader, their backs bathed with moonlight. Scott nodded at the werewolf below them, and Isaac immediately understood.

Isaac dropped to the ground. "This one's mine, Stilinski," he spoke towards the cop car, towering over the captured werewolf. He reached down and grabbed the whimpering man by the back of his neck – slightly digging his own claws into the skin just for a little added flair. The unknown wolf gasped as he was brought to his feet and cowered as he looked into the eyes of Isaac.

The door to the squad car abruptly opened. After a moment, a leg appeared from within, and then another. A man dressed in uniform ascended from the car, his eyes locked on the three wolves before him. Scott's attention was drawn by him, and so to was Isaac's. Through the blinding light of the headlights, Scott caught a glimpse of the man who stood before them, and felt his stomach clench.

Deputy Parrish stood uneasy behind his make-shift shield of a car door, pale and stunned.

TEEN WOLF: THE NIGHT IS DARKEST

Chapter I: Know My Pain

Peter lunged forward, striking the captured alpha in the side of the mouth with his fist. "He's not talking," he said almost whimsically to his nephew.

"Maybe that's because you keep pummeling his face," retorted Derek, who leaned against the table with crossed arms in clear judgment of Peter's methods of…interrogation.

Peter couldn't help but smile. "He wasn't talking before that. This is just fun." He lunged again, landing another solid blow.

"You could stand there and shatter his face but he's never going to say anything."

The loud crack of fist on bone rang throughout the loft. "We'll see."

Just then, the door of Derek's loft slid open with a screech. "That's enough of that," Scott commanded as he entered the room, followed closely by Isaac. "He's been here since last night. Has he said anything?"

Peter grinned again, taking a moment to admire his handy-work – the swollen and bruised face of the captive. "No."

"I don't think he could if he wanted to anymore," Derek responded with a tinge of disapproval in his voice, though he secretly admired the ferocity of his uncle.

Scott turned his attention towards the restrained alpha. "Great."

"Where's Stiles and Lydia?" Derek asked. Peter finally backed away from his werewolf punching bag and began to wipe his hand with a rag.

"They're out on another case," Scott informed him, "but they should be back late tonight. Tomorrow at the latest." He cleared his throat. "Let's focus on the here and now, shall we?"

"Yes," Isaac said, stepping forward towards the unconscious werewolf, "what are we to do about our friend here?"

Scott stepped forward towards the man who sat bound to a chair with rope in the middle of Derek's loft. The sun was beginning to set, and the orange glow of the fading day shined through the giant window, granting them light, at least for now. Bad things tended to happen at night around here, and so Scott wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. He tilted his head sideways, examining the alpha. He was rugged, with shoulder length, unkempt hair and a small shadowy beard covering his cheeks. His clothes were old, torn and – ancient. Scott looked him up and down, breathing in his scent – the same one he had picked up from the night before. It was not pleasant.

"He's an alpha," Derek interjected, breaking Scott's thought process.

"I know – I saw his eyes."

"Just here for the hunt," added Isaac. "Though, you'd think, being an alpha, he'd be able to control his lust on a full moon."

"He's not from here…why would he come to Beacon Hills just to sate himself?"

"Why, indeed."

The alpha remained unresponsive, his head bowed. "We can sit here and guess all we want, but we're never going to know unless he tells us. We need to wake him up," Scott said. "I want to talk to him."

"Wait, let's forget this guy for a second, Scott," Peter said. "Any news about the deputy?"

Isaac sighed. "You know as much as I hate to agree with this psycho, he's right. The deputy…that could be a serious problem."

Scott rubbed his forehead – this was not an issue he wanted to address right now, but he knew that it was something that needed his attention.

"Are you sure he saw something?" Derek chimed in. "Maybe he'll think it was just a figment of his imagination; a trick of the light or something."

"No," Scott replied. "Sadly, he got a full view of three of us. I tried reaching out to the Sheriff earlier but he's been busy with an arson case." He could sense the negative vibe going around all of them, but believed fully that it was he who was responsible. He is the one who orchestrated the chase and should have been more cautious and more aware. The fact that he did not notice the sound of the sirens was his fault, and he knew it. He also knew that something was off about this situation before them, and that right now was not a time for low team morale.

"Hey," he said, "let's not worry about this right now. We'll figure it out later, yeah? Let's just get to the bottom of what this man is doing here." He garnered nods from everybody, who seemed to appreciate Scott's attempt at boosting their spirits. "Do we know anything about this guy? No markings, affiliations?"

"Peter and Deaton are usually the walking supernatural encyclopedias," said Isaac. "I got nothing."

Everybody immediately turned towards Peter, who scoffed. "So now you want my help."

"He's right," Scott said flatly, "you are a psycho."

Peter smiled sarcastically. "I appreciate that."

"...But you also know more than us about this stuff. What can you tell us?"

Peter's laughed in defiance, making eye contact with all three men - who simply glared at him, before he finally conceded. "Fine." He drew close to the restrained man, taking in the state and age of his clothing - at least two hundred years old, European-origin, his scent - musty. He reached out, rubbing the fabric of the man's lapel between his fingers and pushed his head down, revealing a tattoo imprinted on the back of his neck. Peter's brow furrowed in confusion - an ancient Chinese symbol. Suddenly his eyes grew wide and his head snapped up.

"What is it?" Scott asked.

"Wait…" Isaac said before Peter could respond, noticing a black substance now leaking from the alpha's nose. "Is that his blood?"

Scott turned back towards the direction of the alpha, taking notice of what Isaac had seen. "That's not the color of blood," he responded, and he knew instantly what it was. He had seen this black fluid before.

Just then, a gentle, nearly silent groan emitted from the werewolf. Scott and his friends exchanged looks – making sure that none of them had made the noise; it had definitely come from the unconscious alpha tied up in front of them. As they cautiously approached him, the eyes of the alpha fluttered open, causing them to take a step back. The werewolf groaned in discomfort, fidgeting in his seat. A soft, gurgling sound emitted from his mouth.

"What is that? He's trying to say something."

They approached again, leaning their heads in in an attempt to understand the man's words.

Isaac let out an exasperated breath. "That's not English."

"Sounds like…Chinese? Japanese?"

"It's Chinese," Peter replied.

The alpha seemed to sense Scott's presence and his body squirmed to life. He looked up at his fellow alpha. His mouth grew slightly agape, almost as though he was in awe of the sight before him.

"_True_…?" The man choked out through wheezing breaths. The black fluid trickled from the corners of his swollen mouth.

Scott stood silent for a moment. "Yes," he finally uttered.

The alpha nodded. He groaned again, pulling at his restraints until his arm broke free. He reached up and grabbed onto Scott's forearm. In an instant, Peter, Derek, and Isaac swarmed him with their fangs barred.

The man's grip was searing to the touch, and Scott could feel his claws run deep into his arm, causing him to wince in pain. "No," he stated, ordering his wolves away. Something about this man intrigued him now. Something…

The alpha wheezed and coughed again, causing another wave of fluid to pour from his mouth. "What did you say?" asked Scott. He asked again, and again, each time growing more impatient. The alpha only stared back, his dazed head bobbing back and forth.

Finally, he spoke through quivering lips. "_'When we are near, we must make him believe we are far away.'_"

Scott's face scrunched in confusion and he winced again as the grip on his arm intensified. With one powerful grab, he wrenched the alpha's arm from his, sending blood and small chunks of flesh up into the air, and the man fell back into his chair.

"What the hell does that mean?" inquired Derek, but no one had an answer.

The shroud of confusion blanketing their minds was lifted by the deep-toned, insidious laughter of the alpha. He fidgeted again in his chair, growing more violent with each passing second and fighting his restraints; the black fluid began to ooze from every orifice of his body. He phased into his wolf form, letting loose a bloodcurdling howl.

He laughed again. "_We're here_," he said, and with one swift turn, the man viciously contorted his neck, snapping it with ease. His body went instantly limp and the black fluid that once poured from his body now lay as a puddle beneath the chair.

"Jesus!" Derek exclaimed, and the others shared his surprise.

"Who's here? What is that?"

"It's a message," came Scott's simple reply, and from whom, he didn't know. And that frightened him.

* * *

Evening past over into the dead of night; all was calm and quiet, and in a town like Beacon Hills, that was never a good thing. Scott's bike sped through the empty streets, and his surroundings were blurred on either side. His eyes were focused on the road ahead of him, but Scott's mind was elsewhere. Even though they had stopped a bloodthirsty alpha, he couldn't help but wonder of the meaning of his words, and the purpose of the mountain ash infection that seemed to come from nowhere. What did it mean? And how did the wolf come by the ash?

He finally arrived home; the road was desolate, the houses all asleep. His bike stalled to a stop in the driveway, and he turned the ignition off, setting his helmet down upon the handle bars. He was alone in the darkness; there were no others to be seen, save one.

"I didn't think you'd ever get home," Kira said as she sat cross-legged on his front porch.

Scott shook his head and smiled. "I didn't think you'd wait this long for me."

"I just…" she trailed off. "I just didn't want to go home tonight." And Scott understood: she had never really felt comfortable around her parents since her mother's true past was revealed to her.

"I know," he said softly. "You can stay with me. My mom's at work."

Kira's lips curled into a warm smile. "Thank you."

He led her inside and into the kitchen. There, they spent the next hour pouring over the strangeness of the situation that Scott and his friends had witnessed in the past twenty four hours – everything from the accidental run-in with Parrish to the bizarre state of the captured alpha and his cryptic message. As he downloaded her, Kira could sense Scott's weariness – it showed in his face and in his heart.

"Does it hurt?" She asked, gently touching the claw marks in his arm.

Scott shook his head 'no'. "Not anymore. I've had worse wounds before." Kira was not impressed with Scott's lighthearted treatment of the situation. She knew he was trying to blanket his fear and worry with a sense of humor, but it still bothered her that he was so distressed. Scott acknowledged this. "It's from an alpha – it will heal, but it'll take time," he attempted to reassure her.

Kira ran her fingers down his arm until she could intertwine them with his. "Come to bed," she murmured softly. "It's very late."

"I wouldn't sleep," Scott replied simply, massaging his throbbing temples. "I don't want to disturb you."

She smiled coyly. "I'd rather you toss next to me than in the chair or down here."

Scott thought for a moment and conceded; sometimes he would forget that Kira was indeed a kitsune, and that was one spirit he did not want to upset.

She led him quickly up the stairs and into his room. The moonlight pierced through the glass of the window and illuminated his bed, as though it was the promised holy land, primed and ready for action, but Scott's teenage angst had taken a backseat for the night, swallowed whole by his exhaustion and stress. Kira sat down upon the mattress, pushing herself back until she lay completely upon the bed, and Scott followed suit.

"I know why you're worried," she asserted. "What the alpha said. What it means."

Scott wrapped his arm around her and took her hand in his, pulling their bodies tightly together. He was silent for a moment, not sure of what to say.

"Yes," he finally affirmed with a whisper, softly kissing the nape of her neck.

"And the deputy, too – what are you going to do?"

Scott closed his eyes, feeling the lull of sleep begin to take him. "I don't know yet. But things are changing."

* * *

"Sir," said the deputy, tapping on the sheriff's cracked door.

"Parrish? It's very late," Stilinski said, rising from his desk. "Come in, kid." Parrish cautiously entered the office, taking one fragile step at a time. "Since you're here, I rounded up the files you requested about last month's fire," the sheriff continued as he rummaged through a filing cabinet. "Ah, here we go." He pulled a small binder from one of the drawers and flipped through it quickly. "Tell me why you need this again?"

"Actually, sir…I'm not here for that." Parrish's eyes darted around the room, glancing at everything except Sheriff Stilinski.

The sheriff repositioned himself behind his desk. "What's up then?" He earned no response, and immediately took notice of his deputy's avoiding glance and uneasy demeanor. "You're not usually here this late on a weekend. What's going on, kid?"

* * *

The next morning brought neither clarity nor epiphany to Scott. He had remained in bed with Kira until the sun had risen high enough that it shined down upon them in bed. There was something about simply being close to her that calmed him. He didn't know what it was, he couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but he felt anchored with her. And in times when his mind was preoccupied by things that he didn't understand, that anchor made all the difference.

Even after Kira had left for the morning, Scott lay alone in his room. This was one of those rare times that he was by himself these days and could think. He had to be careful though: letting his mind wander too much could do more harm than good. But this gave him the opportunity to ponder many things. The position of being a leader still felt new to him, even though it had been several months since he had attained his true alpha status. To Scott, it still felt as though he was in the preliminary stage, and he believed that there was always much more to learn and more room to grow.

He closed his eyes, feeling the warm rays of the morning sun beat down upon his skin. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep once more. Slowly, he surrendered himself…

_Flash. _Scott awoke with a start, sitting up straight in his bed. He looked outside to gauge how long he had been asleep, but found that there was no light beyond his windows. There was no darkness. There was nothing. He leapt from the bed and began to make his way towards the door of his room. As he fiddled with the lock on the knob, an ominous shadow enveloped Scott from behind, and he felt an instant chill slither up his spine. There was someone here. He sensed it.

"Is this real or just happening in my head?" He whispered beneath labored breaths.

"Both," came the low, solemn voice.

"What do you want?"

The voice groaned, sending out a shockwave that rattled the room. "You have something of mine."

Scott's brow furrowed slightly. "I have taken nothing from no one."

"Where is he?"

Scott took a moment before nodding in acknowledgment. "Ah, he's not here."

"I want his body."

"Body? So you know that he is –"

"Yes," the man interrupted. "I know that he is dead."

"I can assure you that was not our doing."

"May I sit?"

For the first time, Scott turned towards him. "What is your name?"

"I am known by many names, but most commonly - Prometheus," he responded. The man was tall and rather slim with pale skin and a scarred complexion upon his face. He walked with a cane that he held aside him as he descended into the chair. He winced slightly, gingerly tending to his right leg. Whoever he was, he had seen battle many times.

"I have met a man with the name of a god before," Scott told him. "He was misguided."

"Deucalion...He was an idealist who was easily swayed by foolish rage." His jaw clenched. "I am here to merely seek retribution."

"For what?" Scott asked. "Again, we've done nothing."

"I'm going to make this very simple for you, Mr. McCall," he continued, twirling his cane playfully in his hand. "You have taken one of my own. And now, I need a dead member of your pack."

"What?"

"To balance the scales – it's only what's fair."

"He did not die by our hands. He killed himself. You have no right to anything," Scott informed him.

"It doesn't matter what really happened or didn't. It doesn't even matter if I believe you. But one of my brother's is dead and it was in your custody. I will not back away from this until you know my pain."

"Then I'm sorry to disappoint you, because you will take none of us," asserted Scott confidently.

"The 'Arrogant Alpha'," Prometheus chuckled to himself. "You don't even turn towards me when I first invade your home – your mind. That will be your undoing. I'd highly advise you to re-think this, Scott. Your pack isn't just made up of the supernatural, is it? It's unique like that. You have humans. Tell me, why do you taint your pack with the abnormal?"

"You've overstayed your welcome, Prometheus," Scott said, dismissing his question. "You should go now."

Prometheus cleared his throat as he ascended from his seat. "Your pack is part-human. They cannot defend themselves against us. Remember this moment – when you denied me – as you stand weeping over their mangled bodies."

_Flash._ Scott jolted awake once again, his chest heaving up and down as his heart pounded wildly within his chest. The man who introduced himself as Prometheus was gone, leaving only a very concerned Scott in his wake.


End file.
